O dream maker, you heart breaker
by Riddlemeister
Summary: She does this sometimes. She walks around New York aimlessly, admiring the window displays and watching the wide array of people walking down the street. And she gets lost in her mind, every single time. AU Faberry. A take on "Breakfast at Tiffany's." Complete.


A/N: Um. This is probably the last one shot I'll ever write. I'm just hoping to finish that three part series on and then I'll be retiring my fic writing hat. It's been fun, but life's been getting busy. With that being said, this is an AU Faberry one shot and is basically a remake of Breakfast at Tiffany's.

* * *

_**O dream maker, you heart breaker**  
_

* * *

_Sometimes, on your way to a dream you get lost and find a new one._

* * *

She does this sometimes.

She walks around New York aimlessly, admiring the window displays and watching the wide array of people walking down the street. And she gets lost in her mind, every single time.

So when she jumps up on the ledge of the Lincoln Center fountain and sticks her arms out to support her balance as she treads down the path, she doesn't even realize that she's stepped in front of a picture that's about to be taken.

The camera click breaks her trance and she looks down at the camera staring at her. The lenses are slowly being lowered down and when the blond girl behind it is revealed, Rachel Berry just smiles, shrugs, and says 'sorry' before continuing down along the ledge and hopping off after about five more steps.

* * *

"You must be famished. Aren't you, Cat?" Rachel asks the cat staring at her from the windowsill. She stands on her tiptoes, reaching for two bowls. She feels around for it for a couple of seconds before finally coming into contact with the edge of one of the bowls.

She also almost drops it when her doorbell goes off.

"Sweet Barbara!" She lets out at the sound of the buzzer. She puts the bowl down and walks over to the front door, pressing the button to unlock the front door downstairs. It's probably Kurt collecting the scarf he left in her living room. Although he could have chosen a better time, not when Rachel's just gotten up and she's prancing around in her sleeping attire.

She walks back to the kitchen (which is five steps tops from her front door) and throws in some cat food for Cat. She turns around and calls the cat over, bending down to set the bowl in front of him.

"Here you go Cat," She chirps with a smile. "Yummy, year old non-vegan cat food!"

She throws the fridge door open. Time for some yummy vegan mac and cheese!

While waiting for the microwave to be done, she hears a knock on her door. It throws her off when someone knocks at her door because really, all the people she knows that would come visit her would just barge in unannounced.

Walking over to the front door, she turns the knob and is met with green eyes.

"Hi," the woman at her door starts hesitantly. "I'm sorry about buzzing in like that. I'm moving in upstairs and the landlord gave me the wrong key."

"Oh, that's okay," Rachel chirps happily just as the microwave announces that her mac and cheese is ready. She starts walking back and the other woman just hesitantly stands at the door. Rachel turns slightly and nods. "Well, come in. The landlord is outstandingly crabby. You wouldn't want to alert her of your presence."

"I'm Rachel by the way," Rachel tells her, retrieving her steaming bowl from the microwave. "Rachel Berry."

"Hi, Rachel," the other woman responds, eyeing her with faint recognition. "My name's Quinn Fabray."

"Welcome, Quinn Fabray," Rachel says with a big smile on her face, plopping down on her make-shift bath tub couch unceremoniously. "I'm impressed. Moving in this early in the day is unheard of. Most people wait til around lunch time."

"It is around lunch time," Quinn says. She pulls out her phone. "It's 11:30."

Rachel bolts out of the tub, causing the cat to jump away from her and onto the windowsill.

"That's impossible!" Rachel lets out, running to her room. "I really should buy an alarm clock. Being late is simply unacceptable. It takes quite some time for me to get to the Tombs."

Quinn haphazardly walks into the apartment, peeking down the hallway to where Rachel disappeared off to.

"Um, the Tombs?" Quinn asks, picking up the cat that's been muzzling her leg. "Like the prison?"

Rachel emerges from her room in a different outfit, busy putting on an earring. She rolls her eyes at Quinn as she walks to her bathroom.

"Excuse you, but I prefer calling it a detention center," She asserts, her voice clear from the bathroom.

Quinn puts a hand—the one that isn't holding the cat—up in her defense.

"Sorry," She calls out.

Rachel emerges again and she flashes Quinn a smile.

"No worries," she reassures her. "Where on earth is my other shoe?"

Her voice sounds muffled and when Quinn stops at the bedroom door, she only sees half of Rachel's body. The upper half is hidden under her bed, digging around for her shoe.

"If you don't mind me asking, who are you visiting?" Quinn asks, leaning against the door frame.

"Oh, I go and talk to this charming lady. She goes by the name Cupcake," Rachel says. "She's a sweetheart. A little finicky. But still a sweetie."

"Cupcake?" Quinn repeats with faint recognition. "You're not talking about Emma 'Cupcake' Pillsbury, are you? The mobster they arrested a couple years back. Right?"

"People keep saying that," Rachel mumbles, her eyebrows knitting together in frustration. "I have no clue what they're all talking about. Cupcake is a sweetheart. I don't think she's capable of doing anything bad."

She says it with such a conviction. She either truly believes it or she's that good of an actress.

"So, you just randomly talk to this lady that isn't related to you?" Quinn asks slowly. Rachel shakes her head, although Quinn can't see that because she's still half under her bed.

"Don't be silly," She says with a slight laugh. "I was contacted by a lawyer a year or so ago. Sue Sylvester? She pays me a thousand dollars a month to go in and chit-chat with cupcake. She must be so lonely up there."

"That's it?" Quinn asks in disbelief.

"Yes ma'am," Rachel responds. "That and I have to tell good old Ms. Sylvester a recipe for a specific cupcake that she tells me towards the end of the meeting. I reckon she's a wonderful baker. What, with a name like hers after all."

"You know," Rachel says when she straightens out. "Your time and my time would be better spent if you assisted me in my search."

Quinn opens her mouth slightly before deciding against saying anything.

"Of course, why didn't I think of that?" She says with a slight hint of sarcasm. She puts the cat down, drops to her knees, and looks for a shoe. "What am I looking for exactly?"

"This little fella's partner," Rachel lets her know, sticking up a sole shoe. Quinn nods and gets going. She finds the shoe behind the door.

"Here we go," She announces. "It was hiding behind your door."

She turns and hands it to Rachel, who is sitting on her dresser and applying make-up.

"Thank you, you're quite the angel," Rachel tells her. She gets up and rushes out of the room and Quinn follows suit. "Although I'm afraid I'm going to have to kick you out now."

Quinn shrugs, watching Rachel collect all of her things. She walks out of the apartment and waits for Rachel to lock the front door.

"Although, you can walk me out if you feel so inclined," Rachel says with a smile, turning around to practically fly down the stairs. They stop at the mailboxes and when Rachel pulls hers open, there's a compact mirror and some lip gloss. She puts some on and Quinn just watches her with an amused look.

"Everyone told me New York would be, uh, unique," She says, taking the mirror that Rachel is handing her.

"You've only scratched the surface," Rachel tells her, looking at herself in the mirror. She smiles once she's satisfied with her look and she takes the mirror from Quinn and slams the mailbox shut.

"Let's go," Rachel says, turning right around and pushing the front door open. "For example," She starts as she makes her way down the front steps. "You need to develop the art of hailing a cab."

"That can't be too hard," Quinn says in a disbelieving tone. She walks to the curb and sticks her arm out. "TAXI!"

There's chirping and people passing and not a single yellow cab materializes in front of them. Rachel just walks up in front of her and whistles.

"Viola," Rachel says triumphantly as a cab pulls up in front of them. Just as she pulls the cab door open, another cab pulls up and when the door opens, a tall man in a handsome suit walks out. Rachel looks at him and then at Quinn. By the look on both of their faces, she figures that they know each other.

"Did you see the apartment yet?" The man says with a smile, walking over to Quinn and kissing her on the temple.

"You gave me the wrong key, Sam," Quinn tells him with a small smile.

Rachel shrugs, remembering that she's running late.

"Well, I'll see you later dear neighbor of mine," Rachel announces. Quinn looks at her and smiles.

"See you later, Rachel," She says, waving as Rachel closes her door and tells the cab driver where to go.

"Come on," Sam calls her attention back. "I think you're gonna love this one."

Quinn nods, following suit when he turns and goes up the stairs.

* * *

"Rachel, you won't believe what that, that slut bag said," a man starts rattling off as Rachel walks into the club that night. "I almost hit her in the face and dislodged that poor nose job of hers."

Rachel laughs, clinging on to his arm and walking around with him.

"Kurt, while I do appreciate you reiterating every detail of your dramatic life to me, I feel like this is a recurring scene here," She says. Kurt rolls his eyes, crossing his arms in front of her.

"This is different," He insists. "We all know she's more than okay with trampling innocent lambs while she gallops her way on her borderline sociopathic climb to the top."

"Who's an innocent lamb? Cause it sure as hell ain't anybody in this club," Says a voice behind them.

Rachel and Kurt whirl around and Rachel immediately screams.

"Oh my goodness!" She says, crushing the girl in front of her with a hug. "Mercedes! This is such a momentous moment!"

"I want in on this hug!" Kurt exclaims, extending his arms and sandwiching Rachel between him and Mercedes.

"Okay, okay," Mercedes struggles to say. "You guys, it's just a tiny part. I have one line, for crying out loud."

Rachel pulls back sharply, knocking Kurt in the head. But he doesn't mind because he's also gasping in disbelief.

"Mercedes Jones! How could you say that?" Kurt lets out, clutching the part of his face where Rachel Berry's stone hard head hit him.

"That's preposterous! This is just the beginning of your career!" Rachel exclaims, disentangling herself from the Berry sandwich. "Your face will be everywhere before you know it."

Kurt's face drops.

Mercedes rolls her eyes.

"Come on," She says with an exasperated tone, linking arms with both of them. "You're going to be on Broadway someday," She says, looking at Rachel to her left. She ignores Rachel's "Well everyone knows that" and continues speaking.

"And you," She says to Kurt, turning to look at him, "Will be designing the most fabulous gowns for Rachel and I to wear at the many awards shows that we will be dominating faster than you can say 'Adele holding on to all of her Grammys.'"

"Now, let me buy you two drinks and you can tell me about that fellow intern of yours that you keep complaining about," Mercedes says with a smirk, earning an appalled look from Kurt.

"Just because this is quite a pivotal moment in your life, I'm going to ignore that," Kurt says, sticking his chin up. "Now go get me a Cosmopolitan. I feel like Carrie Bradshaw right now."

* * *

It's about an hour or so after midnight when Rachel escapes the guy she's been flirting with for a couple hours now. She runs up the front steps of her apartment just as a car pulls up from behind her.

"Come on, babe!" The man screams from inside the car, obviously drunk. "We'll have a good time!"

"Oh, I'm sure you will!" Rachel says loudly, fidgeting with her keys before unlocking her front door and running into the apartment. She's slightly tipsy herself. The guy somehow manages to catch the door and then he's stumbling up the steps, a flight or so behind Rachel.

"Rachel!" He sings out. "Why are you so shy? You weren't last time!"

"BERRY!"

Rachel stops and so does the man hot on her trail. They both look up and see a woman leaning over from the top floor banister. She's wearing a bathrobe and really pissed look on her face.

"Good evening Santana!" Rachel says, eyeing the inebriated man sitting on the steps. "You're looking particularly stunning this evening."

"Can it small fry!" Santana Lopez yells back. "This is the third time this week! You're lucky I don't call the cops on you. Or go down there and kick your ass myself!"

"Yes, well it won't happen again!" Rachel responds with a sweet smile, running to her front door just as the guy gets to the top of the stairs. "Have a wonderful night!"

"Berry!" She hears Santana scream just as she unlocks her door and narrowly escapes the guy. She slams the door, locks all of the locks she had installed, and rests her back against it. She feels the guy pounding from the other side.

"Sweetie! Open up!"

Realizing that it's going to take a while until he gives up, Rachel walks over to the window and props it open, crawling through and steadying herself on the fire escape. She throws her heels back into the apartment and walks up the rickety ladder, cursing the cold winds.

There's a faint light in the apartment directly above hers and Rachel peeks in to see what's going on. She sees the woman she met earlier—Quinn Fabray—sleeping soundly under the covers. She must be naked, Rachel surmises.

The man from earlier walks out of the bathroom, straightening out his tie. He gives Quinn one look before bending down to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. Then he walks over to the desk and picks up his suit jacket. He pulls out a checkbook and writes a check before putting it on the desk, near the camera. And then he's gone.

Rachel bites lip, listening to the door close softly. Not being able to stand the cold anymore and hearing the man still pounding on her door downstairs, she gathers her dress and slips through the window. Her head hits the window and makes enough noise to wake up the other woman.

Quinn slowly rolls over, rubbing her eyes. Rachel stands frozen by the window, watching Quinn in front of her. Quinn blinks at the sight of Rachel, rubbing her eyes again.

"Rachel?" She says slowly, sitting up and gathering the sheets around her.

"Sorry to bother you," Rachel begins to explain, cringing when the man downstairs pounds on her door again. "I'm in a bit of a pickle downstairs and it's really cold outside. The tall man left and your room just looked so warm, I couldn't help it."

"People lied when they said you don't get to know your neighbors in New York," Quinn muses. "Come on in. Can I get you a drink?"

Rachel shakes her head, walking over to the desk and running her hands over the fancy, professional looking camera in front of her.

"Is this yours?" She asks, slowly lifting up the camera and pretending to take pictures with it.

"Yes," Quinn tells her from the bed. "I'm a photographer. Or at least, trying to be."

Rachel shrugs, putting the camera down gently.

"I'm a Broadway singer," She says. "Or at least, trying to be."

Her hands pick up the check on the desk and she picks it up.

"He's pretty generous," She muses, looking at Quinn. The expression on Quinn's face changes in a heartbeat.

"Alright, get out," She says firmly, almost pulling the covers off before remembering that she's naked underneath.

Rachel immediately puts the check down and kneels by the bed. She puts a hand on Quinn's arm.

"I'm sorry!" Rachel says. "I really am. And trust me, I understand. I understand completely. I didn't mean anything of it. Forgive me?"

Quinn looks like she's torn between being okay with it and throwing Rachel out for invading her privacy like this. But Rachel looks harmless, so she just nods and makes space for Rachel on the bed. Rachel immediately smiles at the unspoken acceptance of her apology and she happily sits on the bed next to Quinn.

"What is the life of a photographer like?" Rachel asks her, genuinely interested.

"Wouldn't know," Quinn tells her simply. "I didn't do well the first time someone paid me to take a picture."

"No?" Rachel tilts her head.

"I was supposed to take a picture of a local politician while he visited tornado victims, help with his campaign and such," Quinn recounts. "I didn't. I took a picture of children standing in the ruins of what was their home. They were the ones who lost almost everything after all."

"Well that's unfortunate," Rachel says, knitting her eyebrows together. "For your career and for those children."

Quinn just shrugs it off.

"It is what it is."

Rachel doesn't even wait for Quinn to ask her anything before she launches into her story.

"I'm attempting to save some money," She says in a matter of fact tone. "My brother Finn is coming home from Afghanistan soon. It's going to be wonderful, having him with me again. But it'll take a while before he adjusts."

Quinn nods just as Rachel yawns next to her.

"That's why," She adds sleepily, sinking into the bed and curling up next to Quinn. "I have to…save…"

When Rachel bolts up from a nightmare hours later, she quietly gets off the bed and gives the sleeping Quinn one more look before climbing out of the window.

* * *

Someone knocks on Quinn's door at around lunch time and when she opens it, there's a flash that almost blinds her. After taking a second to recover, she blinks and sees Rachel smiling in front of her, holding an old school Polaroid camera.

"Good afternoon, Quinn," She says cheerfully. She holds the camera out and urges Quinn to take it.

"Hello to you too, Rachel," Quinn starts slowly, taking the camera in her hands.

"I found this at a thrift store," Rachel tells her. "It's not like your fancy camera, but I figured you'd get a kick out of it."

Quinn studies the camera in her hands.

"It's my peace offering for being so impetuous yesterday," Rachel offers.

"There really was no harm done, Rachel," Quinn tells her. Rachel's smile becomes wider.

"Wonderful!" She says with a clap of her hands. "Why don't you swing by at this party tonight? My friend Mercedes got cast in a musical and it's quite an exclusive party."

Quinn half smiles before nodding slowly.

"Sure, why not."

Rachel beams again.

"I'll put the address on your Facebook wall," She tells her, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, time for me to take off now!"

She waves before turning around.

"Rachel," Quinn calls out. Just as Rachel turns, there's a flash.

Quinn lowers the camera slowly, revealing her smiling face.

"Just testing it out," She says.

Rachel just laughs.

"Maybe that's what you need," Rachel says with a wink, turning to walk away backwards. "A muse."

* * *

Several hours before the party, Quinn stares at the pamphlet Sam left for her the other day. It's for a magazine's photography competition, calling artists to capture New York in motion.

Her eyes flit to the Polaroid camera. And then she stares at the picture on her desk quietly.

It's one of Rachel.

The one she accidentally took when she was trying to take a picture of the fountain and Rachel sort of just floated into the picture. The water is shooting up from behind her and Rachel's hair is everywhere, framing the coy smile that she has on her face while she's deep in thought.

She probably doesn't even realize that it was Quinn who took that picture. Judging from the quick glance and the quick "sorry" she muttered to Quinn before walking away.

It's New York in motion alright.

Quinn lets out a small laugh, emailing a digital copy of the picture to the address on the pamphlet.

* * *

"I'm sorry, who are you with?"

Quinn opens her mouth to respond but someone cuts her off.

"She's with me! She's with me, Tank," A woman calls out from inside the bar. Quinn looks over the bouncer's shoulder.

Rachel waves at her from next to the woman and Quinn smiles. She looks back up at the bouncer with an expectant look and he moves aside to let her in.

"Quinn!" Rachel calls out, running up to her and shoving a martini in her hand. "You made it! Come on, I'll introduce you to my dearest friends!"

"Hello to you too, Rachel," Quinn responds with a laugh. Rachel drags her over to the bar.

"Quinn," Rachel starts, sounding like she's about to introduce the king and queen of England. "May I present, Kurt Hummel, designer extraordinaire."

"Enchante," Kurt greets, holding his hand out.

"And this wonderful young woman here is who we are celebrating, Miss Mercedes Jones," Rachel continues, motioning to the woman who called out to the bouncer earlier.

"Hello!" Mercedes chirps, waving her hand.

"How a—"

"Who do I have to screw to get another drink around here?"

The four of them turn to the source of the voice, who is currently walking over to them.

"And this," Rachel says with a slight headshake. "Is my lovely agent, Noah Puckerman."

Noah walks over and slings an arm around Rachel.

"Agent, babysitter," Noah shrugs. "It's all the same princess. Now, who do we have here?"

Rachel beams and motions to Quinn.

"This is my new neighbor, Quinn. She's a photographer, you know."

"I'm not really—" Quinn starts to argue but Kurt cuts her off.

"A photographer!" He says. "Wonderful! We can have you document our respective rise to stardom."

Quinn laughs a little.

* * *

Later that night, Quinn is sitting between Kurt and Mercedes and tuning in and out of their conversation when she spots Rachel from across the room, talking to someone. Rachel laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear. And Quinn can tell that the man is already enamored by her.

"Who's that?" She asks suddenly and both Kurt and Mercedes look at her before following her line of vision.

"Oh my Barbara," Kurt lets out. "Look at our girl go. I'm so proud. It seems like only yesterday when she was practicing her eyelash batting technique."

"That's Michael Chang," Mercedes explains. "He's from some rich family in Hong Kong and he just graduated from NYU. Filmmaking. Oh, is he fine."

"Tell me about it!" Kurt agrees.

Quinn nods absent mindedly, taking a drink out of her cup. And then she stands up abruptly, earning a little gasp from Kurt.

"You okay, chica?" Mercedes asks.

"Yeah," Quinn responds, gathering her things. "I just remembered that I have something to take care of."

She excuses her way out of the booth and the other two watch her trail away.

"Oh, well that's a shame," Kurt exclaims. "It was nice meeting you!"

"Yeah, hopefully we'll see you again!" Mercedes adds.

Quinn smiles and moves into hug them.

"I hope so too."

On her way out, Noah Puckerman stops her for a quick chat.

"Here's my card," He says, handing her a business card. "Let me know if anything happens to Rachel. Night or day. She's too bullheaded sometimes."

Quinn lets out a small laugh.

"I can see that."

* * *

It's almost one in the morning when Quinn gets back to her apartment. She grabs several beers and suddenly gets an idea. She puts her coat on and walks out of the apartment, making her way up the stairs.

"And where do you think you're going, blondie?"

She turns and spots her landlady standing by her door. She looks pissed.

"Um, going up to the roof to drink some beers," Quinn says slowly. "Is that not okay?"

Santana looks at her with slightly narrowed eyes. And then she relaxes and shrugs.

"Nah, it's kosher," Santana finally says, walking towards her and grabbing a beer bottle from Quinn's hands. "But I'm coming with."

"…Okay," Quinn says slowly, turning around and following suit. Santana unbolts the door and steps out.

"Come on, blondie," She calls out.

"This is some good shit," Santana says after several gulps.

They've been up there for a few hours when they hear some noises from down stairs and Santana rolls her eyes.

"Berry drives me fucking nuts," Santana tells her, shaking her head. "I don't understand how someone that pint sized can be full of annoying material. I wonder if she doesn't realize how annoying she is."

"I think she's well aware of how much you dislike her," Quinn responds, bringing the beer bottle up to her lips.

"I don't _hate_ her," Santana says in defense. "She's just too loud all the time. And all those idiots that follow her around can't seem to understand what 'no' means every time she says it."

"You almost sound like you're protective of her."

"Shit, no," Santana scoffs. "I just don't want some poor idiot's guts splattered all over my wall is all."

* * *

Quinn makes her way down to her apartment and she spots Rachel saying good night to the guy at the bar: Michael Chang, or something like that.

After he's out of earshot, Quinn passes by Rachel's door and Rachel immediately runs up to her.

"Quinn! I was wondering where you ran off to," Rachel says excitedly. "Did you see Mike Chang? He drove me home and walked me up to the door. What a gentleman."

"That sounds great, Rachel," Quinn tells her.

"I'm going to make him fall in love with me," Rachel suddenly says. "Yes. It must happen."

Quinn halfway snorts and Rachel looks at her sharply. Quinn puts her hands up in defense.

"I meant to say, 'I hope you manage to charm Mike Chang into falling in love with you,'" Quinn amends with a small smile.

Rachel beams at her.

"That's more like it."

* * *

The next night, Quinn is sitting quietly in her apartment and toying with the camera Rachel bought her when she hears a sound coming from outside the window.

She gets up and leans on the window frame and takes in the sight in front of her.

Rachel is sitting on the window sill with a small guitar in hand. She's wearing yoga pants and a sweater and this is the least dressed up Quinn has ever seen her.

She's beautiful.

Rachel starts singing and there's a hint of melancholy on her face.

_Moon river, wider than a mile_

_I'm crossing you in style, someday_

_O, dream maker, you heart breaker_

_Wherever you're going, I'm going your way…_

_Two drifters, off to see the world_

_There's such a lot of world to see_

_Oh, we're after the same rainbow's end_

Quinn breaks her trance and grabs her camera, taking a picture of Rachel.

_Moon river and me…_

Lowering her camera, Quinn just watches as Rachel continues to hum and play the guitar.

* * *

"There's someone that's been loitering outside your building," Sam announces as he walks into the apartment the next day. Quinn looks up at him with an inquisitive brow. "You should tell your landlord. Or the cops."

Quinn watches him plop some bags down and laughs.

"Darling, I don't think my landlady cares," She muses. "Unless he's peeing on the stoop or something."

Sam laughs, walking over to kiss her temple.

"Did you see the photo competition I left you?" Sam asks her, putting a hand on her desk. Quinn sees his wedding ring from the corner of her eye and sighs.

"Yeah, I did," She says quietly.

"Perfect!" Sam cries out. "Let's make some dinner to celebrate. Come on."

He straightens and holds a hand out. Quinn shakes her head and takes it.

"Sam, you can't cook."

* * *

Quinn walks out of the building with the intent to go to the grocery store when she realizes that there is a man following her. She takes random turns, testing if the man will follow suit. And he does. So she decides to head to a park, which would be filled with people.

When she sits down on a bench, the man sits at the opposite end.

"You're following me," Quinn says quietly.

"Yes, I am," The man replies. "I'm sorry. That must have been borderline creepy. But I need to talk to you."

Quinn turns and sees him holding a hand out.

"I'm Leroy," He introduces himself. "Leroy Berry."

"Quinn," Is all that Quinn says, taking his hand hesitantly.

"Well," Leroy starts. "Miss Quinn, I need you to help me talk to Rachel."

Quinn looks at him.

"You can't talk to her yourself?"

Leroy smiles. He takes his wallet out and busies himself with looking for a picture.

"It's not that I can't," Leroy explains. "But she might need someone to be there for her when I show up."

He pulls out a picture and hands it to Quinn. It's an old picture, taken inside someone's dining room, where the people are sitting around the table. Quinn spots Leroy, who is all smiles. There's another man sitting next to him and a teenage boy grinning from ear to ear. And sitting next to that boy, unmistakably, is a young Rachel Berry, beaming and happily clinging on to the boy.

"That's my husband, Hiram," Leroy begins. "We adopted Finn and Rachel when they were young. They'd been homeless, you see. They went to the school I was teaching at, and at some point I had realized that they were sleeping there overnight, in storage rooms or in the library. Sleeping there and living off of the cafeteria lunches."

Quinn nods slowly, showing that she understands the gravity of the situation.

"She needs to come home," Leroy continues. "Finn will be returning from the war soon. She needs to be with her family."

Staring at little Rachel's face, Quinn purses her lips.

"I'll come with you when you talk to her," She tells him. "But she's a grown woman and she can make her own decisions."

"Fair enough," Leroy says, getting up and dusting his pants.

* * *

Quinn hesitates before knocking. After three knocks, Rachel says something from the other side.

"Come in, Quinn!"

When they enter the apartment, Rachel is in the kitchen, making macaroni and cheese. She turns and almost drops her bowl.

"Dad!" She yells, running up and hugging Leroy. Leroy holds her close and closes his eyes.

"I've missed you!"

"I missed you too, pumpkin," Leroy mumbles.

Quinn smiles a little, feeling like she's ruining the tender moment.

Rachel looks at her after a while with an apologetic smile.

"Do you mind if I kick you out today? This will be the only time, I promise," She tells Quinn. Quinn takes on look at Leroy but he doesn't protest so she shrugs and shakes her head.

"No, not at all," She says before turning around and leaving.

"What brings you here, dad?" Rachel starts, immediately walking around the living room and tidying up. "I'm sorry but this place is quite a mess right now. Would you like anything to drink? How is daddy?"

She rattles on before walking into the kitchen and getting a glass of water.

"Rachel, honey," Leroy starts, sitting down cautiously on the bath tub couch. "You and I need to talk."

Rachel turns slowly. That was never a good tone. She walks over and sits on the chest drawer that she's been using as a coffee table. Leroy takes her hand into his.

"You need to stop this," He says earnestly. "This pursuit of stardom and what have you. Honey, you need to come home, with me and your daddy. And with your brother. He's going to need all of us together. Who knows what he's seen over there."

"This is not your place in life," He continues. "You need a home. You belong with us, your family."

Rachel smiles and shakes her head.

"I know that dad," She tells him. "I know that Finn is going to need support. That's why I've been saving up. He can live here, with me. I've been preparing for his homecoming for a year now."

"This city is going to be too busy for Finn," Leroy reasons.

Slowly, Rachel takes her hand out of her dad's grasp.

"Dad," She says with a steady voice. "You can't make me go back. Even if I go with you now, you know me. I'll leave again. I'm a drifter. And so is Finn. It's quite impossible for us to stay put. Even this city can't keep its hold on me forever."

Leroy visibly sags. He puts his head in his hands and sighs.

"I know," He says quietly. "You were always so determined. I just wanted to give it a shot."

Rachel leans over and kisses his head.

"Thank you, dad," She says with a smile. "Now why don't we go out and feast on delicious food. We all know that my culinary skills were never quite up to par."

Leroy nods slowly and gets up.

"Yes, let's do that."

* * *

Quinn accompanies them to the train station, where Leroy is taking the train back to Ohio.

Rachel hugs him tight and sends love to her daddy. Quinn nods to Leroy, remembering her promise to look after Rachel.

After his train pulls away, Quinn feels Rachel's fingers reaching out for hers. She's quiet and there's an unreadable expression on her face. Quinn squeezes her hand and that seems to bring Rachel back to reality.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asks hesitantly.

A beat passes and then Rachel nods enthusiastically.

"Of course," She tells her, beaming. "Why don't we go on a picnic, my dear Quinn?"

* * *

"Banana?" Rachel asks her, holding up a banana from her ridiculous picnic basket.

"No, thank you," Quinn tells her, lying down on the blanket and closing her eyes. Something blocks the sun and when she cracks her eyes open, she sees that it's Rachel leaning over her with a questioning look on her face.

"You don't like bananas? That's just unheard of," She says with her eyebrows knit together.

"No," Quinn explains. "I'm allergic to bananas."

Rachel gasps dramatically.

"That's terrible!"

"It's not the end of the world, Rachel," Quinn reassures her.

"I'm lucky enough to be spared of any allergies," Rachel tells her. She leans on one side next to Quinn, propping her head up with her hand. "Do tell me that you're not allergic to anything else."

"Um," Quinn hums, thinking. "Kiwi? Oh, and coconut."

Rachel gasps, again.

"It seems tropical fruit have a vendetta against you," Rachel observes. "Let's hope you don't ever find yourself stranded on a remote island."

Quinn actually laughs.

* * *

A week later, there's a knock on her door and Rachel's barely even opened the door when she says, "Hello, Quinn."

Quinn looks at her with a perplexed look on her face. She looks at Rachel's door and doesn't see a peephole.

"Hello, Rachel…How'd you know it was me?"

Rachel just shrugs with a smile.

"There are only three types of people who would visit me: Puck, Mercedes, and Kurt, who don't even bother knocking; Gentlemen and our lovely landlady on the extreme end of the pendulum, banging on my door as if they're trying to break it down; And you, with your polite knock and a 'Hello, Rachel' waiting for me."

Quinn smiles, impressed with how observant Rachel is. She just nods it off.

"Alright then," She says, walking closer to cat and picking him up. "Hi Cat, how have you been?"

The cat meows and Quinn laughs.

"Rachel?" She calls out and Rachel sticks her head out from behind the fridge.

"Yes?" Rachel asks with a smile on her face.

Quinn puts the cat down and picks up the magazine she brought with her. She hands it to Rachel and watches her face for a reaction.

Rachel takes the magazine and studies it quietly. She reads the top, where it says 'New York City in motion' in bold and bright letters. And then she scans the pictures, looking at cabs and bright lights and subway cars before finally making her way to a picture of her standing on the ledge of the Lincoln Center fountain.

Underneath, she sees Quinn's name. She touches the page softly.

"That was you," She says quietly, remembering that day. Quinn nods next to her.

"Yes it was," Quinn replies, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "And sorry if I used it without your permission but—"

"No, no," Rachel says quickly, looking up at Quinn. "It's beautiful. I'm glad to have been part of it. Let's just gloss over the fact that I jumped in unannounced and it was all by happenstance."

Quinn laughs.

"Well, call it coincidence or fate or whatever you'd like," Quinn tells her, pulling out an envelope from her back pocket. "Your picture got me on a magazine page and a website. And they also gave me a cash prize of a hundred bucks."

She waves the check with a wide smile on her face and Rachel is suddenly squealing and crushing her with a hug.

"Oh my goodness!" Rachel yells into her ear. "That sounds amazing! We should celebrate."

She quickly disentangles herself and runs off to the kitchen, where she pulls out a bottle of Champagne from the fridge. Quinn walks over, slightly laughing as Rachel struggles to take the cork out.

"I don't think I've ever had an alcoholic drink before lunch," She muses, taking the bottle out of Rachel's tiny hands to take her out of her misery. Rachel pouts, but then smiles again.

"We should do that today, to celebrate," She says, reaching up to get two drinking glasses from her cupboard. "It's a Saturday after all."

"Do what today?" Quinn asks. Just then, the cork shoots out of the bottle and narrowly misses Cat before hitting a cabinet and ricocheting off in the opposite direction. Both Rachel and Quinn scream at the sound before looking at each other and laughing hysterically.

Rachel holds out the glasses, still laughing slightly as Quinn pours the champagne.

"I meant, we should spend the day doing things we haven't done before," Rachel elaborates. She holds her glass of champagne out and looks at Quinn hopefully. Quinn raises an eyebrow and clinks their glasses together.

"Sounds like a good idea to me."

* * *

"I've always wanted to go to an art museum and pretend to be a curator," Rachel muses, taking a bite of her ice cream sandwich. They're sitting at a park and eating ice cream sandwiches because Quinn has never had one. Quinn looks at her before finishing off her ice cream and throwing the wrapper in the trash.

"Let's do it!" She says, getting up and holding her hand out.

* * *

"Come back here!" yells the older man hobbling after them.

Rachel giggles, grabbing Quinn's hand and pulling her along with her. Quinn laughs from behind her, trying to keep up with Rachel's surprisingly fast pace. They speed through the gallery they just passed, startling the visitors staring up at the majestic paintings.

"Oops!" Rachel yells out, jumping over the random bench in the middle of the hall. Quinn opts to side step the bench.

"Careful!" She warns Rachel, although the other girl isn't really listening.

They eventually make it out of the museum in one piece. But Rachel doesn't stop running. Nor does she let go of Quinn's hand. She giggles and looks back at Quinn, who just smiles at her in amazement.

* * *

By the time they get to Times Square, Rachel looks over and sees that Quinn has finally stopped panting from all the running the just did. She laughs and walks aimlessly.

"Alright Quinn Fabray," Rachel beams happily, letting go of Quinn's hand and skipping up a few paces in front of her. She takes huge steps—choosing only to land on the white rectangles of the crosswalk and almost falling over the third time she skips. She turns around suddenly and starts walking backwards, which is impressive, considering the fact that they're on a crowded crosswalk in Times Square.

"Yes?" Quinn asks, her eyebrow going up slightly and a small smile forming on her face.

"Your turn," Rachel tells her in a matter-of-fact tone. "What's another thing that you have yet to do?"

Rachel slows down before eventually coming to a stop in the middle of the crosswalk and Quinn stands right in front of her. They're creating a niche of sorts, enveloped by a sea of people crossing the street. One man bumps into Rachel and mutters something considerably rude but Rachel doesn't even notice with the look that Quinn is giving her.

"Kiss you?" Quinn says quietly, looking at her in the eyes.

"No?" Rachel asks, surprising even herself when her voice comes out so shyly.

"Nope," Quinn repeats.

"You should fix that," Rachel whispers just as Quinn closes the gap.

It's quite romantic, really. Something you'd see out of a movie. Throngs of people hurrying to cross the street with cold expressions and warm cups of coffee in their hands, plugged into white headphones or screaming into their Bluetooths. It's loud and borderline chaotic and the bright lights are nothing but blinding. They're at the heart of New York City and Rachel's never felt it pulsating around her as much as she does now.

No, scratch that. The two of them are standing at the center of the universe. And this is where Quinn takes Rachel's hand in hers as she kisses her softly.

* * *

The next morning, Quinn wakes up expecting to find Rachel curled up next to her, with her messy brown hair in her face. Instead, she's in her bed alone. She looks around the room, trying to spot anything indicating that Rachel had just left for coffee or something. She grabs a dress shirt—probably Sam's, how ironic—and wanders into the kitchen.

"Rachel?"

There's no one there.

Quinn dresses up and takes the fire escape to Rachel's apartment.

"Hi cat," She says, picking up the cat form the floor. "Have you seen Rachel?"

The cat meows and Quinn just puts the cat down. She wanders into the apartment, calling out to Rachel before realizing that she isn't there.

* * *

"Good morning!" Sam greets as he walks into Quinn's apartment with food in tow. He walks over to Quinn, who is looking through pictures in her camera. He kisses Quinn's temple before heading over to the kitchen.

"Sam," Quinn starts slowly, getting up from her chair. "We need to stop doing this."

Sam freezes, turning to face her with a croissant in his hand.

"You're married. With a wife and kids," Quinn continues, brushing her hair with her hand. "And then you come here, cook food for me, sleep with me, and then leave me with a check."

"Quinn—"

"Sam, we can't keep living like this," Quinn tells him.

Sam puts the bread down and walks over to her, taking her hand into his.

"No, this is more than that."

"No," Quinn shakes her head, taking her hand back. "This is you pretending to live the life you could have had had you chosen to not listen to your parents. This is you, pretending to be someone you're not."

Sam's expression darkens.

"What's her name?" He says seriously, crossing his arms. Quinn looks at him.

"That has nothing to do with this."

"Here," Sam mumbles, trying to take her hand back. "I don't care what you do when I'm not here. Just don't leave me."

Quinn watches him sadly. He's lonely and he despises his life and she really does enjoy his company. She shakes her head and pulls away, reaching for her coat.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

Quinn wanders off to places where Rachel might be. She checks the corner coffee shop, the grocery store, and finally the park where she had originally met Leroy Berry.

It's there that she sees Rachel sitting quietly, throwing bread crumbs to birds by her feet. She's holding a book and reading it intently. Quinn smiles and lets out a breath. She walks up behind her quietly and bends over to bring her face next to Rachel's. What she has to say though gets lost in her throat when she sees what Rachel is reading.

"Life in Hong Kong? What are you doing?" Quinn asks pulling away and straightening up. Rachel doesn't look at her.

"Research," She says quietly.

"Research?" Quinn says incredulously. "For what?"

"For Michael Chang."

Quinn is floored. She walks around the bench and sits next to Rachel.

"Wait, what? Why would you do that? I thought we…"

"He's asked me to accompany him to a movie premier he's been invited to," Rachel says.

"Rachel…" Quinn trails off. "Why are you doing this? Stay with me, we can take care of each other."

Rachel doesn't look up at her.

"I told you I was going to marry Michael," She says simply.

Quinn's jaw drops in disbelief. She looks away and tries to understand what's happening.

"You can't be serious…I thought we had something."

Rachel puts the book down.

"Quinn, you and I are both broken. What does it matter how I feel for you? Two wrongs won't make a right."

With that, Rachel flips her book shut and takes off, leaving Quinn alone in a park full of people.

* * *

When Quinn gets back to the apartment, she runs into Santana. The other woman gives her one look before shaking her head.

"You look like shit," Santana says. She turns around and starts going up the stairs. "Come on blondie."

Quinn just follows suit and she's not really surprised when she finds herself on the rooftop. Santana flips open a cooler that was not there before and hands Quinn an opened beer bottle.

"Thanks," Quinn mumbles, sitting down on the floor. She drinks the beer wordlessly.

"Apparently, you're moving out of this apartment," Santana says casually.

Quinn almost laughs. She forgot about that.

"Yeah, I guess," She says. Santana shrugs.

"Whatever," She tells Quinn. "You can still hang out with me."

Quinn smiles.

"Thanks."

"So, who died?" Santana asks.

Quinn shrugs.

"No one," Quinn says. "Just Rachel being bullheaded."

"Ahh," Santana responds. "I'll never understand that girl. No one ever will."

"I don't need to understand her," Quinn lets out. "I don't care how weird or ambitious she is. I like all of her."

Santana doesn't say anything, she just watches as Quinn pulls out a flask and takes a drink.

"You know, not to be a bitch or anything," Santana starts, taking the flask out of Quinn's hands and taking a gulp. She scrunches her entire face and lets the liquid work its way down her throat before speaking again. "But you should work on getting your shit together first."

Quinn turns to her.

"My shit?"

"Yeah, your shit," Santana repeats. "You don't even have anywhere to live in a couple of days. You have no job, that suit and tie with plump lips is not coming back anymore, and you've got no one but yourself to depend on."

She hands the flask back.

"Get yourself together," Santana tells her firmly. "And then maybe by that time, Rachel's gotten her shit together too. That, or you'll find someone else."

Quinn doesn't say anything. She just takes another drink.

* * *

A week later, Quinn is moving out her things when she hears Rachel's laughter. She also hears a man's laughter, which she assumes is Michael Chang. She walks up the stairs slowly, hoping that they'll be in Rachel's apartment by the time she gets to the landing.

Then there's screaming and a vase flying out of the room. Michael Chang scrambles out and sees Quinn.

"You need to help me!" He cries out and Quinn makes her way over.

"What did you do?" She asks with a slightly accusing tone.

"Nothing!" He tells her, showing her a letter. "She opened the envelope and read the letter. And then she went crazy."

Quinn takes the letter.

It's from the US military, sending condolences to Miss Rachel Berry for the death of her brother, who was killed in action several days ago.

Quinn drops the paper, rushing into the apartment where Rachel is crying hysterically and throwing everything within arm's reach.

"Rachel!" Quinn yells out, running over and hugging her from behind. Rachel struggles initially, before breaking down and crying hysterically. She sinks to the floor and Quinn holds her tight.

* * *

_Two months later_

* * *

There's a knock on her door and Rachel rushes over to open it.

"Hi Quinn," She says with a smile. Quinn is standing on the other side, her used to be long hair now sitting on her shoulders. Quinn smiles and hands Rachel the bottle of wine that she brought with her.

"Hi Rachel, how have you been?" Quinn asks her, walking into the apartment.

They haven't really kept in contact ever since Quinn moved out of the apartment. The times that she's been there to see Santana, she'd never once run into Rachel.

"Good, good," Rachel tells her, walking back to the kitchen. "How are you? I've heard of wonderful things from Santana."

Quinn tucks her hair behind her ear and bends down to pick up cat.

"I got a steady job, working as a photographer for a magazine," She tells Rachel. "I'm also working on my own collection. Hopefully I can put together an exhibit with some of my friends."

Rachel, who is stirring something in a pot, smiles to herself.

"That sounds wonderful."

"What has Rachel Berry been up to?" Quinn asks her, walking over to the kitchen and leaning on the counter.

"Oh, you know," Rachel starts. "Trying to learn how to speak Chinese and how to make Chinese food."

She turns to Quinn and sees that the other woman's smile has faded.

"I'm moving to Hong Kong with Michael next week," She tells her. "He's there now, preparing everything for us. I just wanted to say goodbye to you."

"Oh," is all that Quinn can say.

Partly because she came here hoping that, after giving Rachel space and letting herself figure things out, there would still be hope for the two of them.

And partly because cops are suddenly bursting into the room. They handcuff both Rachel and Quinn and Santana shows up.

"What the fuck is happening here?" Santana yells out.

"We're here to take Rachel Berry into custody for acting as an accessory to a crime," one of the men wearing suits tells Santana.

"Wait, what?" Quinn calls out as they lead them out of the apartment. "That's ridiculous. And how the hell am I involved in this?"

Santana follows them all the way down to the street.

"Santana," Rachel says before they shove her into the car. "Can you turn off the stove please?"

Quinn almost laughs out loud.

"Santana, call Noah Puckerman," Quinn tells Santana. "He should be able to straighten this out."

* * *

"What's your name?"

Quinn rolls her eyes and looks back at the registrar.

"Quinn Fabray," She repeats.

"And your occupation?"

"I'm a photographer," Quinn tells her.

"Quinn!"

Quinn turns and sees Santana holding her cellphone. She takes the phone and puts it against her ear.

"Yes?"

"_Quinn,"_ says Noah Puckerman's voice on the other side. _"I've taken care of everything. Just get her out of there. Don't bring her back to the apartment."_

Quinn nods.

"Okay," She says.

"_Did you pack up her things?"_

"Yeah, I have everything ready to go in a cab outside."

Just then, Rachel emerges from questioning and reporters immediately flock her.

"Is it true that you've been relaying messages regarding mob related activities from Emma Pillsbury and Sue Sylvester?"

Rachel looks at him incredulously.

"What gave you that idea? I just keep her company, that's preposterous."

* * *

The moment they get into the cab, Rachel starts changing her clothes. It's raining hard outside and Cat is starting to get ansty on the car seat. Quinn helps Rachel by pulling her coat back and she opens her mouth but Rachel cuts her off.

"La Guardia please," She tells the cab driver, shrugging her coat off. Quinn stops trying to help her and just sits back with Cat on her lap.

"Rachel, what are you doing?" She asks her slowly.

"I've got a plane to catch," Rachel tells her with a smile, pulling out her compact mirror and fixing her eyeliner. "Mr. Chang awaits!"

"Rachel," Quinn starts but Rachel doesn't make an indication that she's listening. "Rachel," She tries again, this time putting a hand on her forearm. "Michael Chang called me and told me to tell you to listen to this."

Rachel looks at her. Her smile fades when she sees the look that Quinn is giving her. Her eyes trail down to the phone that Quinn is holding out to her.

"How odd, I'm going to see him soon after all," Rachel mumbles with a nervous laugh, taking the phone and listening to the voicemail.

Her face falls.

She gets as far as 'My dearest Rachel, I'm sorry…' before blinking hard and swallowing. She falters, but only for a second. She barely hears Michael Chang telling her that because of all the scandal that she's been involved in, his family has forbidden him from marrying her. He apologizes some more, telling her that he is from an important family in Hong Kong and he has to take care of his family's reputation

"Rachel," She hears Quinn say next to her. "Let's just go get you a hotel room right now."

Rachel shakes her head sternly, tossing the phone back to Quinn. She sits up straight and holds her head high before picking up her mirror and her eyeliner.

"Still going to La Guardia, sir," Rachel calls out to the driver. Quinn looks at her in disbelief.

"What?"

"It's still a free ticket to Hong Kong," Rachel reasons. "I have always wanted to go to East after all, broaden my horizons."

"And what are you going to do there?"

"I don't know. Explore. Find myself," Rachel explains. She looks over sharply. "Wouldn't want to waste a free trip. Maybe I won't come back."

Quinn takes her hand into hers.

"I love you, okay?" She tells Rachel. "I do. Stay here, with me. We can live in New York. We can travel the world. Together. Don't you get it? We kind of belong together."

Cat meows between them and Rachel picks him up.

"No, we don't belong to each other," Rachel reasons, looking at Cat. "We belong to no one. Cat and I. We're just a bunch of nobodies on this planet. No Broadway. No family. No future. Nothing. We ARE drifters."

She's getting more frantic now, her voice rising.

"Cat and I don't even belong to each other," She says before looking up at the driver. "Stop the car."

The car screeches to a stop and Rachel opens the door. The rain splashes into the car and Cat starts crying loudly.

"Go out in the world, Cat," Rachel tells him, leaning over to put him down on the road. "Go find yourself."

She slams the car door and tells the driver to keep going to the airport. Quinn looks back and sees Cat sitting by the curb, cowering from the pouring rain.

"What's wrong with you?" Quinn asks harshly, turning to face Rachel better. "You can't keep running away Rachel. You can't be a perpetual drifter."

"You don't get it, do you?" Rachel answers back, the bitter taste rising up from the back of her throat. "You have it all figured out finally. What do I have? Nothing! I've always wanted this one thing. I've always had one dream. To sing, to act, to perform. Do you know how it feels after the world has rejected you continually? And now I can't even sit and sing while Finn plays the guitar next to me. I have nothing. I AM nothing, Quinn!"

Quinn looks at her. Then she turns to the cabbie.

"Stop the car," She says calmly.

She gets out but leans down to look at Rachel.

"You know what's wrong with you? You're just too damn scared to let go. Yeah, life's hard. But get over it. People fall in love, and then they belong to each other, and yes, that ties them down to some extent, but you know what? Sometimes that's the only shot you'll ever have at true happiness. You always talk about being free and being a drifter but you're not. You're in this damn cage that you built yourself and it doesn't matter if you're here or in Ohio or in Hong Kong. Wherever you run, that's going to follow you."

Quinn takes a deep breath.

"Take a look around, 'cause there are people who do love you. Your dads and your friends and Noah. Heck, even Santana cares. You're not nothing. You can be anything you want, Rachel. You can be happy."

And with that she stalks off.

Rachel is speechless for a minute. She keeps her head held high and slams the door. Turning to the cabbie, she tells him to keep going.

They get about five feet away before Rachel tells him to stop again. She clamors out of the car and looks for Quinn, but she's nowhere to be found.

"Quinn?" She calls out, holding her hand up to her face to shield her eyes from the rain. "Cat?"

She hears meowing. Bending down, she sees Cat hiding in a crate, trying to stay warm.

"Oh, cat," She starts crying, picking him up and holding him close under her coat. At a loss, Rachel sits on the curb and lets the rainwater come down on her.

* * *

And hour or so later, Rachel is bundled up and hugging Cat, with Mercedes on one side of her and Kurt on the other. They both look like they were pulled out of an eighties work out video—with leg warmers and all. Kurt is toweling her hair dry and Mercedes is holding a bowl of soup she just made. They're at Kurt's, and when Rachel looks around the apartment, she sees pictures of herself all over. She's happy and smiling, with Kurt, and Mercedes, and Noah.

She starts crying.

"Oh, Rachel," Kurt says. "Don't be sad anymore. Don't cry."

Except she's not sad. She's crying, because for the first time in her life, she realizes that she isn't a drifter after all.

* * *

A year later, Rachel finds herself sitting in a subway car, ripping a pamphlet some random guy handed her to shreds. Her nervousness still amok, she turns her attention to a different pamphlet in her bag, but remembers that it has a greater purpose. She toys with the Starbucks apron she has tucked away in her bag and her "Hi, my name is Rachel" nametag falls out. She picks it up and traces over the letters, attempting to distract herself.

Rachel is griping the strap of her bag tightly, twisting it and threatening to snap it with every step she takes and when she finally makes it to her destination, her knuckles have turned an unhealthy shade of white. With a deep breath, she pulls the door open and takes a step forward.

There's a significant amount of people. She looks around for a program or handout of some sort, hoping to decide where she should start admiring the pictures, when one of the pictures catches her eyes. Slowly, like it's going to run off in fear if she approaches it any faster, Rachel walks up to the framed black and white picture. She has to stop herself from reaching out to touch the glass.

It's her. It's a picture of her. Sitting on the window sill by the fire escape, playing Finn's guitar.

"It's not as beautiful as the subject, but I did the best I could."

She turns slightly and sees Quinn standing a few feet behind her.

"Hi Rachel," She adds quietly, not taking a step closer.

"Quinn, Hi," Rachel mumbles, smiling after a second. "Your pictures. They're all so beautiful."

"Thank you," Quinn responds, finally walking closer to look at the picture next to Rachel.

"Santana did them no justice when she told me about them. No justice at all," Rachel mumbles with a laugh and Quinn just smiles at her.

"She sort of just came in here and complained about the cheese and lack of good wine," Quinn muses.

Rachel half smiles.

"Cat misses you," She says slowly, walking slowly to the next picture on the wall. It's one of the crosswalks in Times Square.

"I sort of miss the rascal myself."

"I, um," Rachel starts before reaching into her bag. "There's this off-off Broadway production of Rent this month. Nothing too big or fancy. But, you should come."

Quinn takes the pamphlet from her hands and studies the paper. Rachel watches her with baited breath, noticing how Quinn is holding the paper like it's something valuable.

"Rachel," Quinn starts quietly, looking up from the pamphlet.

"I'm starting over…" Rachel trails off. "And it'd be great. If you can be there."

Quinn just nods, taking the pamphlet and putting it into her back pocket.

"Tell you what, why don't you let me give you a guided tour of my pieces that are included in this exhibit," She says with a hint of a smile. "And then you can tell me all about this off-off Broadway production of Rent that I'm going to see this weekend. Particularly about the girl who plays Mimi. We can even be extravagant and grab a cup of coffee."

Rachel doesn't even make an attempt to hide her growing smile. She just nods.

"I'd love that."


End file.
